John 8:32 is an often quoted verse. Jesus says, "You will know the truth, and the truth will make you free."
He has been trying to explain who he is, why he had come, and his relationship to The Father. His listeners have been slow to understand.
The truth does set us free. The truth assures us of God's love, of God's grace, of God's intentions toward us. The truth is that we are deeply loved, valued, and sought after. The truth is that God will bridge the gap which so often separates us. The truth is that God so loved the world that he will give his son in order that we might be saved.
This verse was altered in a quote by Pope John XXIII. The alteration of this quote is part of a beautiful paper relief my wife made for me shortly after we were married. John said, "The truth will make you free, but first it will make you miserable." Known for his concern for the least among us, John was pained by the realities of hunger and hardship. He knew the truth, of God's love for us; he also knew the truth with regard to how far too many of God's children continue to live. Why must those for whom Christ died continue to live lives of desperation?
It makes one miserable, when you realize that there is enough food in the world to feed everyone. But greed and strife and lack of commitment means some eat to excess while others starve. It makes one miserable, to observe "second homes" which sit empty for much of the year, while others are sleeping in cardboard boxes or on park benches. It makes one miserable, to know the truth. None of us - not one of us - need be enslaved to heartbreak or desolation.
The truth does make us free. In that freedom, we are able more clearly see the world's suffering. That freedom allows us to know that suffering is not necessary. Our freedom prods us to address the ills of our world and to assist in making God's will known.
Thursday, March 31, 2011
Wednesday, March 30, 2011
Devotion - Wednesday, March 30
In Romans 5, Paul writes of justification. As with most of his comments on this subject, he places the emphasis on faith and grace.
"Therefore, since we are justified by faith," he begins. "Through (our Lord Jesus Christ) we have obtained access to this grace in which we stand," he continues.
It is not we who bring about the change, but "the Holy Spirit which has been given us."
To drive home the point, Paul reminds us that "While we were still weak, at the right time Christ died for the ungodly." Further, "God shows his love for us in that while we were yet sinners Christ died for us."
Any claim we might make of righteous living is built upon the foundation of what Christ has first done for us. Any thoughts we might have of pleasing God are but a response to what God has accomplished.
As I have become fond of repeating, "You either believe in grace or your don't." If you do, you live your life confident of God's abiding presence. If you don't, then you continue to be anxious as to whether salvation has truly come.
As with Paul, awareness of God's grace, being poured into our lives, results in a changed life. We cannot return to our selfish and self-centered ways. It is impossible to return to them; we have been remade in the image of Christ. We spend our days telling others of what it is that God has done for us and in us. Our every utterance includes an acknowledgment of how our lives are different, as a result of the grace of God.
"Therefore, since we are justified by faith," he begins. "Through (our Lord Jesus Christ) we have obtained access to this grace in which we stand," he continues.
It is not we who bring about the change, but "the Holy Spirit which has been given us."
To drive home the point, Paul reminds us that "While we were still weak, at the right time Christ died for the ungodly." Further, "God shows his love for us in that while we were yet sinners Christ died for us."
Any claim we might make of righteous living is built upon the foundation of what Christ has first done for us. Any thoughts we might have of pleasing God are but a response to what God has accomplished.
As I have become fond of repeating, "You either believe in grace or your don't." If you do, you live your life confident of God's abiding presence. If you don't, then you continue to be anxious as to whether salvation has truly come.
As with Paul, awareness of God's grace, being poured into our lives, results in a changed life. We cannot return to our selfish and self-centered ways. It is impossible to return to them; we have been remade in the image of Christ. We spend our days telling others of what it is that God has done for us and in us. Our every utterance includes an acknowledgment of how our lives are different, as a result of the grace of God.
Tuesday, March 29, 2011
Devotion - Tuesday, March 29
John 7:37-52 contains an interesting lesson on prejudice. The religious authorities have sent guards to arrest Jesus. When they draw near and begin to hear what he has to say, they abandon their assignment and return empty handed. Those who had sent them chide them and refuse to understand why they would have been swayed by Jesus' teaching.
Nicodemus once more enters the story. Remember that he had earlier gone to Jesus by night and been involved in that confusing dialogue about being born anew. Nicodemus asks if it isn't possible that Jesus is a prophet. The response to this is "Search (the scriptures) and you will see that no prophet is to rise from Galilee."
Because of where Jesus is from (or where he is assumed to be from) any thought of him as God's messenger is dismissed. When these prejudicial statements are challenged, scripture is used as justification.
We might not reject someone's word because of their city of origin, but we might pre-judge them based on their ethnic background or their skin color. We are most likely to make assumptions based on their social status. It isn't always the case, but often we decide whether we will listen to them even before they have begun to speak. Are they dressed like a preppy or like a hick? Do they speak with a dialect?
Jesus is rejected because nothing in the ancient writings spoke of a prophet coming from Galilee. Was this the true reason, or did it justify their distaste for what he was saying? (Remember that he had called for the dismantling of the religious structures dear to them.) For whatever reason, they had previously determined that nothing good could come out of his mouth.
It is always a challenge to model our lives after Jesus rather than after those who opposed him. There are too many opportunities to assume the position of power and authority and self-righteousness which was favored by the Pharisees and scribes. Prejudices aid us in maintaining the status quo rather than being open to the new thing God is doing in our midst. Read this section of John for yourself and root out from your life the temptation to dismiss the unpopular voice.
Nicodemus once more enters the story. Remember that he had earlier gone to Jesus by night and been involved in that confusing dialogue about being born anew. Nicodemus asks if it isn't possible that Jesus is a prophet. The response to this is "Search (the scriptures) and you will see that no prophet is to rise from Galilee."
Because of where Jesus is from (or where he is assumed to be from) any thought of him as God's messenger is dismissed. When these prejudicial statements are challenged, scripture is used as justification.
We might not reject someone's word because of their city of origin, but we might pre-judge them based on their ethnic background or their skin color. We are most likely to make assumptions based on their social status. It isn't always the case, but often we decide whether we will listen to them even before they have begun to speak. Are they dressed like a preppy or like a hick? Do they speak with a dialect?
Jesus is rejected because nothing in the ancient writings spoke of a prophet coming from Galilee. Was this the true reason, or did it justify their distaste for what he was saying? (Remember that he had called for the dismantling of the religious structures dear to them.) For whatever reason, they had previously determined that nothing good could come out of his mouth.
It is always a challenge to model our lives after Jesus rather than after those who opposed him. There are too many opportunities to assume the position of power and authority and self-righteousness which was favored by the Pharisees and scribes. Prejudices aid us in maintaining the status quo rather than being open to the new thing God is doing in our midst. Read this section of John for yourself and root out from your life the temptation to dismiss the unpopular voice.
Monday, March 28, 2011
Devotion - Monday, March 28
Our Alternative Spring Break Trip was fun, enlightening, and challenging. We engaged in service projects; we took in the sights of Washington, D.C.; we were awestruck by the faithful service of God's sons and daughters.
As part of my "welcome home," the family gathered for breakfast (my favorite meal of the day.) As we sat down to eggs, bacon, and biscuits, I was reminded of the story in which the director used the food on his breakfast plate to size up a potential team member. He was reported to have said, "See these eggs? Well, the chicken in involved. But see the bacon? The pig is fully committed. Which are you - involved or committed?"
The week in D.C., exploring the work of the Church among the poor and homeless, asks of us the same question - "Are you involved, or committed?"
Too often, we become involved in the work of Christ and decide this is enough. Too often, we congratulate ourselves on a week of service and fail to follow through on the changes we promised ourselves we would made upon return home. Too often, we fail to commit ourselves.
Jesus was committed. He instructs his followers that they too are to be committed. He even says, "Take up your cross and follow me." In our baptismal and confirmation liturgies we speak of our self-centered lives ending so that our lives might reflect the life of Christ. We promise that we will commit ourselves to God and follow where Jesus has lead the way.
Spring Break always interrupts the flow of Lent. As those attempting to maintain their Lenten Disciplines while traveling or living in a hostel for the week. This Spring Break may have been the perfect interruption to our Lent - it was a reminder of the work remaining to be done to house, clothe, and feed those whom Jesus came to serve. We were involved for a week; now is the time to be committed.
As part of my "welcome home," the family gathered for breakfast (my favorite meal of the day.) As we sat down to eggs, bacon, and biscuits, I was reminded of the story in which the director used the food on his breakfast plate to size up a potential team member. He was reported to have said, "See these eggs? Well, the chicken in involved. But see the bacon? The pig is fully committed. Which are you - involved or committed?"
The week in D.C., exploring the work of the Church among the poor and homeless, asks of us the same question - "Are you involved, or committed?"
Too often, we become involved in the work of Christ and decide this is enough. Too often, we congratulate ourselves on a week of service and fail to follow through on the changes we promised ourselves we would made upon return home. Too often, we fail to commit ourselves.
Jesus was committed. He instructs his followers that they too are to be committed. He even says, "Take up your cross and follow me." In our baptismal and confirmation liturgies we speak of our self-centered lives ending so that our lives might reflect the life of Christ. We promise that we will commit ourselves to God and follow where Jesus has lead the way.
Spring Break always interrupts the flow of Lent. As those attempting to maintain their Lenten Disciplines while traveling or living in a hostel for the week. This Spring Break may have been the perfect interruption to our Lent - it was a reminder of the work remaining to be done to house, clothe, and feed those whom Jesus came to serve. We were involved for a week; now is the time to be committed.
Thursday, March 17, 2011
Devotion - Thursday, March 17
I wondering "St. Patrick's Day" might be an opportune teaching moment, too good to miss. Many, if not most, of the persons you encounter today are likely to say something about it being St. Patrick's Day.
One of my facebook friends started a long line of "Why do the non-Irish observe St. Patrick's Day?" Thus exposing the confusion in her mind between saints of the Church (and therefore saints for us all) and a cultural or national icon. True, Patty is the saint of the Irish, but he is no less a saint for the rest of us.
We (non-Roman Catholic types) don't typically put much effort into observing any saint. We may refer to Paul as Saint Paul, but typically this is just an assumption that "Saint" is part of his name. Not that his is a "saint" in our religious life.
The teachable moment for today might be to engage those who speak of St Patrick's Day in a bit of conversation about saints. Don't tell them, so much as ask them, "What does it mean, in your life, to identify with a 'saint'?" And see what they tell you.
Saints are those who aid us in our own faith journey. They are the wise who have gone before and set an example. Saints are in heaven, interceding for us. Without saints, our struggle would be greater; our way less clear.
Some of the saints have a day on the Liturgical Calendar. Some have statues in churches or metals worn around necks. Other saints are closer to our hearts; they are the mother, or grandfather, or camp counselor who brought the love of God into our lives at just the right time.
This teachable moment might allow you to help others explore these saints in their life. And whether they are deeply religious or merely cultural observers, your conversation will give them the opportunity to explore all those whom God has placed in their life, bring comfort and hope at just the right time.
Happy Saint Patrick's Day. Perhaps it is only the Irish who need to wear green on this day. Those of us fortunate enough to have a strong relationship with Christ and his Church can wear our crosses and say our prayers of gratitude for those cultural observations which allow us to be reminded of God's grace coming into our lives at just the right time.
One of my facebook friends started a long line of "Why do the non-Irish observe St. Patrick's Day?" Thus exposing the confusion in her mind between saints of the Church (and therefore saints for us all) and a cultural or national icon. True, Patty is the saint of the Irish, but he is no less a saint for the rest of us.
We (non-Roman Catholic types) don't typically put much effort into observing any saint. We may refer to Paul as Saint Paul, but typically this is just an assumption that "Saint" is part of his name. Not that his is a "saint" in our religious life.
The teachable moment for today might be to engage those who speak of St Patrick's Day in a bit of conversation about saints. Don't tell them, so much as ask them, "What does it mean, in your life, to identify with a 'saint'?" And see what they tell you.
Saints are those who aid us in our own faith journey. They are the wise who have gone before and set an example. Saints are in heaven, interceding for us. Without saints, our struggle would be greater; our way less clear.
Some of the saints have a day on the Liturgical Calendar. Some have statues in churches or metals worn around necks. Other saints are closer to our hearts; they are the mother, or grandfather, or camp counselor who brought the love of God into our lives at just the right time.
This teachable moment might allow you to help others explore these saints in their life. And whether they are deeply religious or merely cultural observers, your conversation will give them the opportunity to explore all those whom God has placed in their life, bring comfort and hope at just the right time.
Happy Saint Patrick's Day. Perhaps it is only the Irish who need to wear green on this day. Those of us fortunate enough to have a strong relationship with Christ and his Church can wear our crosses and say our prayers of gratitude for those cultural observations which allow us to be reminded of God's grace coming into our lives at just the right time.
Wednesday, March 16, 2011
Devotion - Wednesday, March 16
I wrote yesterday of the distinctive nature of John's Gospel. Another of these is his tendency to philosophize. Some have called John the "gnostic gospel," meaning that he tends to show tendencies toward gnosticism. (Gnosticism is a worldview in which knowledge is the supreme virtue. That which is earthly is held in less regard.)
It is in John 2 that Nicodemus comes to see Jesus. Here, Jesus speaks of being "born anew." He tells Nicodemus that unless one is born anew they cannot enter the Kingdom. Nicodemus asks how it is possible to once more be born when one has already grown old. Jesus chides him, "Are you a teacher, and yet you do not understand?"
Not wanting to kindle Jesus' frustration, I pretend that I understand. On some level I do; but on others I am not so sure.
Jesus also says to Nicodemus, "The wind blows where it will, and you hear the sound of it, but you do not know whence it comes or whither i goes; so it is with every one who is born of the Spirit." On one level I understand; on another I do not.
Part of my morning devotion is to seek understanding. It is not my intention to pretend I know all things, understand all things, believe all things. My prayers include a request for insight. From John's gospel, in particular, I encounter those twists of phrases which provoke me to wonder and to probe the edges of my knowledge. Its tendency toward gnostic thought expand my way of encountering Christ.
On one level, I know the Jesus story. On so many other levels, I am a novice and in need of continually turning to scripture.
It is in John 2 that Nicodemus comes to see Jesus. Here, Jesus speaks of being "born anew." He tells Nicodemus that unless one is born anew they cannot enter the Kingdom. Nicodemus asks how it is possible to once more be born when one has already grown old. Jesus chides him, "Are you a teacher, and yet you do not understand?"
Not wanting to kindle Jesus' frustration, I pretend that I understand. On some level I do; but on others I am not so sure.
Jesus also says to Nicodemus, "The wind blows where it will, and you hear the sound of it, but you do not know whence it comes or whither i goes; so it is with every one who is born of the Spirit." On one level I understand; on another I do not.
Part of my morning devotion is to seek understanding. It is not my intention to pretend I know all things, understand all things, believe all things. My prayers include a request for insight. From John's gospel, in particular, I encounter those twists of phrases which provoke me to wonder and to probe the edges of my knowledge. Its tendency toward gnostic thought expand my way of encountering Christ.
On one level, I know the Jesus story. On so many other levels, I am a novice and in need of continually turning to scripture.
Tuesday, March 15, 2011
Devotion - Tuesday, March 15
My devotional guide has me reading from John during these days of Lent. One of the ways in which John differs from the Synoptic Gospels (Matthew, Mark, and Luke) is the order of events. Whereas Jesus makes a journey to Jerusalem in them, John has Jesus in and out of Jerusalem on numerous occasions, and early on in the story.
This morning I read John 2:13-22. Here is contained John's account of the cleansing of the Temple.
Jesus enters the Temple. He fashions a whip out of rope and drives out the sheep, oxen, and money changers. His charge to them is that they have made of his Father's House a house of trade. The Temple serves a purpose, he reminds them. And that purpose is not being honored in the way they are using it.
How do we use God's house?
Before I proceed, let me affirm how heartening it is to come to the church and find a group of you typing away on your laptops, or watching the TV, or looking for leftovers in the fridge. I hope and pray that that will continue, even increase. This is a use of God's house; but it must be a bonus use, not the prime use.
How do we use God's house?
God's house is a place where we can feel safe, and comfortable, and at home. It is a place where we can explore our lives and our faith and know that this exploration will be supported by others who gather there with us. God's house is the place we say our prayers and expose the fears of our hearts. God's house is the place where we are assured that we have value and are valuable. God's house is the place we offer our hearts as well as our hands and our voices in service to others. In these ways, we honor God's house and do not make of it something it was not intended to be.
After Jesus cleanses the Temple, he speaks of tearing down the Temple and rebuilding it. John understands these comments to be an indication of God's intentions toward the body, not the actual Temple in Jerusalem. Following John's lead, and thinking of the Temple as our bodies, how would we answer questions about use? Are we using this "temple" as God hopes?
The use we make of the Temple is important. The use we make of our bodies is important. The forty days of Lent are a time to examine these and (where necessary) do a bit of cleansing of our own.
This morning I read John 2:13-22. Here is contained John's account of the cleansing of the Temple.
Jesus enters the Temple. He fashions a whip out of rope and drives out the sheep, oxen, and money changers. His charge to them is that they have made of his Father's House a house of trade. The Temple serves a purpose, he reminds them. And that purpose is not being honored in the way they are using it.
How do we use God's house?
Before I proceed, let me affirm how heartening it is to come to the church and find a group of you typing away on your laptops, or watching the TV, or looking for leftovers in the fridge. I hope and pray that that will continue, even increase. This is a use of God's house; but it must be a bonus use, not the prime use.
How do we use God's house?
God's house is a place where we can feel safe, and comfortable, and at home. It is a place where we can explore our lives and our faith and know that this exploration will be supported by others who gather there with us. God's house is the place we say our prayers and expose the fears of our hearts. God's house is the place where we are assured that we have value and are valuable. God's house is the place we offer our hearts as well as our hands and our voices in service to others. In these ways, we honor God's house and do not make of it something it was not intended to be.
After Jesus cleanses the Temple, he speaks of tearing down the Temple and rebuilding it. John understands these comments to be an indication of God's intentions toward the body, not the actual Temple in Jerusalem. Following John's lead, and thinking of the Temple as our bodies, how would we answer questions about use? Are we using this "temple" as God hopes?
The use we make of the Temple is important. The use we make of our bodies is important. The forty days of Lent are a time to examine these and (where necessary) do a bit of cleansing of our own.
Monday, March 14, 2011
Devotion - Monday, March 14
This morning I read an offering by William Temple. It was helpful, in these early days of the Lenten season. His words call for caution, as we embark upon one of the Lenten Disciplines - service.
We are to humbly serve others. We serve, as Christians, because we have first received. Christ, the one who deserves our service, comes to serve us. It is as the recipients of his service that we are empowered to serve.
Humility, true humility, begins with an ability to receive. It starts with a realization that we are dependent.
We are supremely dependent upon God. We are also dependant upon our Christian forebears, and upon the community of Christ's followers. To pretend otherwise is to reap the benefits of those who have gone before us, without ever understanding our interdependence.
The Lenten pilgrimage is a time to engage in acts of service, of humble service to others. This is but one of the Lenten disciplines. There is also prayer, confession, and fasting. These disciplines position us so as to allow our service to be of the kind offered by Christ. It is service with no ulterior motive; it is service offered out of love and compassion for the other, not out of pity or arrogance.
it isn't easy to serve. Particularly in our striated society. We leave our plush environs for a short foray into the places where the poor and neglected live. As we return to our couches of ivory, do we feel the burden of our wealth, or do we think prideful thoughts of what we have done?
It is costly to serve. Remember what it cost Jesus.
We are to humbly serve others. We serve, as Christians, because we have first received. Christ, the one who deserves our service, comes to serve us. It is as the recipients of his service that we are empowered to serve.
Humility, true humility, begins with an ability to receive. It starts with a realization that we are dependent.
We are supremely dependent upon God. We are also dependant upon our Christian forebears, and upon the community of Christ's followers. To pretend otherwise is to reap the benefits of those who have gone before us, without ever understanding our interdependence.
The Lenten pilgrimage is a time to engage in acts of service, of humble service to others. This is but one of the Lenten disciplines. There is also prayer, confession, and fasting. These disciplines position us so as to allow our service to be of the kind offered by Christ. It is service with no ulterior motive; it is service offered out of love and compassion for the other, not out of pity or arrogance.
it isn't easy to serve. Particularly in our striated society. We leave our plush environs for a short foray into the places where the poor and neglected live. As we return to our couches of ivory, do we feel the burden of our wealth, or do we think prideful thoughts of what we have done?
It is costly to serve. Remember what it cost Jesus.
Thursday, March 10, 2011
Devotion - Thursday, March 10
Today is my baptismal anniversary. I was born on a Sunday (February 10). There were concerns about my birth - whether I would make it, whether my mother would survive the pregnancy. Remember this was 1957. When they discovered that my mother was carrying a child, they also discovered that she had a tumor. The recommendation was to remove both. She was warned that the child was not likely to survive. And if she continued with the pregnancy, it was likely she would not survive either. These were more than idle comments. My grandmother (her mother) was dying of ovarian cancer. Mother Beam died three months after I was born. But that is getting ahead in the story.
I lived. And so did she. I was born on a Sunday morning. The doctor who was to deliver me got the message that Mama had come to the hospital, but he was going on to Sunday morning worship and would be by afterward. I was born while he was still saying his prayers. In fact, I was born while mother lay in the pre-delivery area. Just me and Mama. A nurses' aid came in, saw me there, picked me up and I slipped out of her hands, bouncing on the bed.
Mother went into surgery as soon as they took care of me. She remained in the hospital, after I came home.
I did not leave the house for those first four weeks of life. I grew accustomed to my family; and the family adapted to my presence. When it was decided that we were all strong enough to leave the house, the first place we went was to the Church, to be baptized.
My parents liked the name, Christopher. So that is what they named me. "Bearer of Christ." The image of Christ bore by me is the image they shared with me and brought into sharp focus. The Christ I bear, is loving and caring, is compassionate and devoted.
My baptismal certificate hangs on the wall in my office. It is a permanent reminder of God's eternal grace, poured into my life. It is the only credential I need, as I go about the ministry to which I have been called.
If you do not know the story of your own baptism, discover it. Understand the decisions which resulted in your being presented to God and to the assurances given to you. Begin your Lenten Pilgrimage by discovering how your journey with Christ began. Give thanks for the faith, passed on to you. Even as you identify the opportunities to bear Christ into the world.
I lived. And so did she. I was born on a Sunday morning. The doctor who was to deliver me got the message that Mama had come to the hospital, but he was going on to Sunday morning worship and would be by afterward. I was born while he was still saying his prayers. In fact, I was born while mother lay in the pre-delivery area. Just me and Mama. A nurses' aid came in, saw me there, picked me up and I slipped out of her hands, bouncing on the bed.
Mother went into surgery as soon as they took care of me. She remained in the hospital, after I came home.
I did not leave the house for those first four weeks of life. I grew accustomed to my family; and the family adapted to my presence. When it was decided that we were all strong enough to leave the house, the first place we went was to the Church, to be baptized.
My parents liked the name, Christopher. So that is what they named me. "Bearer of Christ." The image of Christ bore by me is the image they shared with me and brought into sharp focus. The Christ I bear, is loving and caring, is compassionate and devoted.
My baptismal certificate hangs on the wall in my office. It is a permanent reminder of God's eternal grace, poured into my life. It is the only credential I need, as I go about the ministry to which I have been called.
If you do not know the story of your own baptism, discover it. Understand the decisions which resulted in your being presented to God and to the assurances given to you. Begin your Lenten Pilgrimage by discovering how your journey with Christ began. Give thanks for the faith, passed on to you. Even as you identify the opportunities to bear Christ into the world.
Wednesday, March 9, 2011
Sermon - Ash Wednesday
March 9, 2011
Matthew 6:1-6, 16-21
Getting Serious about this God Thing
"What are you going to give me if I do this?" As a parent, there are few comments which irritate me as much as this one. If you have ever been in a classroom where an unsuspecting student asked this of a teacher - you know the disgust that such a question can cause. "What are you going to give me if I do this?" is not something you want to say to someone who will be responsible for giving you your final grade.
My daddy had a quick come-back to my asking, "What am I going to get?" He would respond by saying, "I'll tell you what you are going to get if you don't do it." Ambiguous perhaps, but it communicated his position rather well and I usually found my way clear to do the task without further encouragement from him.
Now, honestly speaking, it really isn't that bad of a question. Before we embark on an activity don’t we have the right to know exactly what we are to expect in return for our efforts. -Yet, somehow, these words, "What am I going to get?" rub the wrong way. They are irritating to hear. They create an obstacle to gratefulness, once the act is done.
Jesus is trying to deal with those who ask “What am I going to get?” He speaks about rewards for doing particular actions. He seems to be operating out of some past experience in which those who have given alms, or offered prayers, or fasted have done so in order to receive the accolades of their neighbors and fellow worshipers. Maybe they were too impatient to wait for results. Perhaps they wanted to determine their own reward and in fact what they were after was the praise of others.
Responding to some prior experience, Jesus says, "If it is the praise of others that you seek and receive, that is fine. But if that is the reward you are after, don't expect another." No one, God included, is going to give you something in addition to that which you have sought and already received.
I can understand the logic of Jesus' thought. You really can't get two effects from the same action. And if the primary effect one seeks is the accolades of one's neighbors, there is no way that a second should be expected. I can understand his point. But I still find it difficult to leave so much up to chance. I want to know, before I start, what I can expect at the other end of the journey.
Of course, this is what makes a spiritual journey so frightening. Jesus says that God, who sees in secret will reward in secret, but he never gets around to telling us what it is that God will give. Are we assured of eternal life? Will God love us more than those who do not act in a certain way? What are we going to get if we agree and do as Jesus instructs? These are questions, for which we want answers, don’t we? But spiritual journeys don't work that way. We embark upon them, but we remain unsure as to where it is that they will lead.
The only thing we know, as we embark on this pilgrimage, is what we are leaving behind.
While it may be known to us, life without God falls short of what we would hope. It may be familiar, but it is a life devoid of the confidence and the assurance that we matter – matter eternally.
The Ash Wednesday confession is a litany of what life is like without God. Failing to love, failing to forgive - we live self-indulgent lives, consuming and exploiting those around us. An intemperate love of worldly goods and comforts allows us to become blind to human need and suffering; indifferent to injustice and cruelty.
We may not know where God is leading us, but we understand all too well what confronts us if we remain where we are.
Lenten disciplines, spiritual journeys - these do not immediately transpose us to some other place, but they give us the tools we need to live in this place while we wait to see what our God has in store for us.
I wish that I did know where God is leading me. What I do know is that without God the place I inhabit is lacking in the things which I need the most.
Repentance, fasting, prayer, works of love - the disciplines of Lent - these may not, these should not earn us the accolades of our neighbors and friends. Rather they strengthen us for the leaving behind of that which destroys and tears down. We cannot see the end of our journey, but along the way we are cared for by a God who is gracious and merciful, slow to anger, and abounding in steadfast love.
“What are you going to get, if you do this?” I don’t know. But haven’t we all seen way too much of what we get when we don’t.
The emptiness of a Lenten journey provides room in our souls for God to find a home. That is what we get.
Amen.
Matthew 6:1-6, 16-21
Getting Serious about this God Thing
"What are you going to give me if I do this?" As a parent, there are few comments which irritate me as much as this one. If you have ever been in a classroom where an unsuspecting student asked this of a teacher - you know the disgust that such a question can cause. "What are you going to give me if I do this?" is not something you want to say to someone who will be responsible for giving you your final grade.
My daddy had a quick come-back to my asking, "What am I going to get?" He would respond by saying, "I'll tell you what you are going to get if you don't do it." Ambiguous perhaps, but it communicated his position rather well and I usually found my way clear to do the task without further encouragement from him.
Now, honestly speaking, it really isn't that bad of a question. Before we embark on an activity don’t we have the right to know exactly what we are to expect in return for our efforts. -Yet, somehow, these words, "What am I going to get?" rub the wrong way. They are irritating to hear. They create an obstacle to gratefulness, once the act is done.
Jesus is trying to deal with those who ask “What am I going to get?” He speaks about rewards for doing particular actions. He seems to be operating out of some past experience in which those who have given alms, or offered prayers, or fasted have done so in order to receive the accolades of their neighbors and fellow worshipers. Maybe they were too impatient to wait for results. Perhaps they wanted to determine their own reward and in fact what they were after was the praise of others.
Responding to some prior experience, Jesus says, "If it is the praise of others that you seek and receive, that is fine. But if that is the reward you are after, don't expect another." No one, God included, is going to give you something in addition to that which you have sought and already received.
I can understand the logic of Jesus' thought. You really can't get two effects from the same action. And if the primary effect one seeks is the accolades of one's neighbors, there is no way that a second should be expected. I can understand his point. But I still find it difficult to leave so much up to chance. I want to know, before I start, what I can expect at the other end of the journey.
Of course, this is what makes a spiritual journey so frightening. Jesus says that God, who sees in secret will reward in secret, but he never gets around to telling us what it is that God will give. Are we assured of eternal life? Will God love us more than those who do not act in a certain way? What are we going to get if we agree and do as Jesus instructs? These are questions, for which we want answers, don’t we? But spiritual journeys don't work that way. We embark upon them, but we remain unsure as to where it is that they will lead.
The only thing we know, as we embark on this pilgrimage, is what we are leaving behind.
While it may be known to us, life without God falls short of what we would hope. It may be familiar, but it is a life devoid of the confidence and the assurance that we matter – matter eternally.
The Ash Wednesday confession is a litany of what life is like without God. Failing to love, failing to forgive - we live self-indulgent lives, consuming and exploiting those around us. An intemperate love of worldly goods and comforts allows us to become blind to human need and suffering; indifferent to injustice and cruelty.
We may not know where God is leading us, but we understand all too well what confronts us if we remain where we are.
Lenten disciplines, spiritual journeys - these do not immediately transpose us to some other place, but they give us the tools we need to live in this place while we wait to see what our God has in store for us.
I wish that I did know where God is leading me. What I do know is that without God the place I inhabit is lacking in the things which I need the most.
Repentance, fasting, prayer, works of love - the disciplines of Lent - these may not, these should not earn us the accolades of our neighbors and friends. Rather they strengthen us for the leaving behind of that which destroys and tears down. We cannot see the end of our journey, but along the way we are cared for by a God who is gracious and merciful, slow to anger, and abounding in steadfast love.
“What are you going to get, if you do this?” I don’t know. But haven’t we all seen way too much of what we get when we don’t.
The emptiness of a Lenten journey provides room in our souls for God to find a home. That is what we get.
Amen.
Devotion - Ash Wednesday
The 40 days of Lent are patterned after the 40 days Jesus spent in the wilderness. We are told that the fasted, that he prayed, and that the was tempted. These 40 days came immediately after his baptism - a reminder that our greatest temptations are often mingled with our most wonderful celebrations. During those 40 days, Jesus confronted everything which might stand between him and God's hope for his future.
Jesus remained true to his calling.
The scriptures tell us that during the 40 days, Jesus was ministered to by the angels. Even as he was enduring these difficult times, he was not out of the watchful eye of the God whom he went to the dessert to seek. God was with him, even as he endured his temptation.
God remains faithful to his promise.
It is doubtful that our 40 days will be as strenuous as those endured by Jesus. But, having taken on the Lenten pilgrimage, we do not know where it might lead. We are to open ourselves to where ever it is that God might lead us. It is in following our master that we discover who God is calling us to be.
It is a time for us to hold fast to the faith within us.
Jesus remained true to his calling.
The scriptures tell us that during the 40 days, Jesus was ministered to by the angels. Even as he was enduring these difficult times, he was not out of the watchful eye of the God whom he went to the dessert to seek. God was with him, even as he endured his temptation.
God remains faithful to his promise.
It is doubtful that our 40 days will be as strenuous as those endured by Jesus. But, having taken on the Lenten pilgrimage, we do not know where it might lead. We are to open ourselves to where ever it is that God might lead us. It is in following our master that we discover who God is calling us to be.
It is a time for us to hold fast to the faith within us.
Tuesday, March 8, 2011
Devotion - Shrove Tuesday
I was in a conversation last evening with an older gentleman. (Well, about my age. But considering this list of recipients, I thought I should make it clear he was the age of a college student's parents.) He claimed to be totally unaware of Lent. The issue arose when we noted that those planning to attend the Habitat Board meeting were invited to Grace Methodist's Pancake Supper.
"Have you ever heard of Shrove Tuesday?" "No."
"It is a time to use up all the leaven in your house." "We don't have 'leaven' in our house - we are (he named the church he attends)."
He had heard of Mardi Gras. "You mean that wild party in New Orleans?" "Well, there happens to be a party in New Orleans. That party happens because it is Mardi Gras."
Mardi Gras means "fat Tuesday." New Orleans is a city with deep Roman Catholic roots.
Shrove Tuesday is the way English speaking, Prostant Christians refer to the day. According to Wikipedia - The word shrove is the past participle of the English verb to shrive, which means to obtain absolution for one's sins by way of confession and doing penance.
Shrove Tuesday is not an opportunity to party. Shrove Tuesday is a time to make our final preparations for Lent. We no longer removed all the leaven from our homes - we will continue to eat yeast bread - but we might not eat cake (associated with parties). The image of removing the leaven from the house reminds us to sweep away all that which might interfere with our Lenten Journey; all that might interfere with our Lenten discipline.
Make ready. Clear the pathway. Identify that which needs to change in your life as you begin the 40 days to come.
"Have you ever heard of Shrove Tuesday?" "No."
"It is a time to use up all the leaven in your house." "We don't have 'leaven' in our house - we are (he named the church he attends)."
He had heard of Mardi Gras. "You mean that wild party in New Orleans?" "Well, there happens to be a party in New Orleans. That party happens because it is Mardi Gras."
Mardi Gras means "fat Tuesday." New Orleans is a city with deep Roman Catholic roots.
Shrove Tuesday is the way English speaking, Prostant Christians refer to the day. According to Wikipedia - The word shrove is the past participle of the English verb to shrive, which means to obtain absolution for one's sins by way of confession and doing penance.
Shrove Tuesday is not an opportunity to party. Shrove Tuesday is a time to make our final preparations for Lent. We no longer removed all the leaven from our homes - we will continue to eat yeast bread - but we might not eat cake (associated with parties). The image of removing the leaven from the house reminds us to sweep away all that which might interfere with our Lenten Journey; all that might interfere with our Lenten discipline.
Make ready. Clear the pathway. Identify that which needs to change in your life as you begin the 40 days to come.
Monday, March 7, 2011
Devotion - Monday, March 7
Easter is the day which gives meaning to our Christian faith. It is the Resurrection of Christ which rests at the center of our beliefs and our convictions. In order to prepare for Easter, the Church has set aside a time of preparation. This 40 Day period is referred to as Lent.
Lent starts on Ash Wednesday. Ash Wednesday is two days away.
On this "Monday before Ash Wednesday," we have much to do. Tomorrow (sometimes referred to Mardi Gras, or Shrove Tuesday) has is particular tasks. We will come to that, tomorrow. Today is the day to look to Wednesday, and make sure we are prepared to begin our season of preparation.
I am referring to our Lenten Discipline.
A Lenten Discipline is a commitment to observe the 40 days of Lent in a way which prepares us for the Easter celebration. In the ancient church (and in some contemporary communities) the practice of fasting comes to the fore. Several years ago we had a number of our LCM students who ate no food during the daylight hours. Two years ago, a number of us committed to learning a bible verse a day. Together, we identified the verses and worked on remembering the chapter and verse of beloved passages.
It has been my experience that the Lenten Disciplines which come closest to achieving their purpose are the simple ones. Planning to read a chapter a day from the scriptures; rising fifteen minutes earlier in the morning to encounter God through prayer; or making sure that no day ends without some expression of compassion being offered to another.
Least helpful seem to be those which mimic New Years' Resolutions. While getting more exercise is a good goal, it may not be the most helpful Lenten Discipline. The same could be said for avoiding desserts, or chocolate. Clearly, any Discipline is a reminder that the season of Lent is upon us, and any reminder is a good discipline to take on. The challenge is to identify the discipline which not only reminds me, but helps me to more fully follow where my Lord has lead the way.
Today is the day to look forward to the 40 days to come. Don't let them catch you unawares and unprepared. Beware of practicing your piety before others so that they may see your good works and praise you. But, you might share your thought about a discipline with a trusted friend or prayer partner and enlist their aid in arriving at the practice most likely to be helpful to you. Certainly, fifteen minutes in prayer might help.
Today is the day to figure it out.
Lent starts on Ash Wednesday. Ash Wednesday is two days away.
On this "Monday before Ash Wednesday," we have much to do. Tomorrow (sometimes referred to Mardi Gras, or Shrove Tuesday) has is particular tasks. We will come to that, tomorrow. Today is the day to look to Wednesday, and make sure we are prepared to begin our season of preparation.
I am referring to our Lenten Discipline.
A Lenten Discipline is a commitment to observe the 40 days of Lent in a way which prepares us for the Easter celebration. In the ancient church (and in some contemporary communities) the practice of fasting comes to the fore. Several years ago we had a number of our LCM students who ate no food during the daylight hours. Two years ago, a number of us committed to learning a bible verse a day. Together, we identified the verses and worked on remembering the chapter and verse of beloved passages.
It has been my experience that the Lenten Disciplines which come closest to achieving their purpose are the simple ones. Planning to read a chapter a day from the scriptures; rising fifteen minutes earlier in the morning to encounter God through prayer; or making sure that no day ends without some expression of compassion being offered to another.
Least helpful seem to be those which mimic New Years' Resolutions. While getting more exercise is a good goal, it may not be the most helpful Lenten Discipline. The same could be said for avoiding desserts, or chocolate. Clearly, any Discipline is a reminder that the season of Lent is upon us, and any reminder is a good discipline to take on. The challenge is to identify the discipline which not only reminds me, but helps me to more fully follow where my Lord has lead the way.
Today is the day to look forward to the 40 days to come. Don't let them catch you unawares and unprepared. Beware of practicing your piety before others so that they may see your good works and praise you. But, you might share your thought about a discipline with a trusted friend or prayer partner and enlist their aid in arriving at the practice most likely to be helpful to you. Certainly, fifteen minutes in prayer might help.
Today is the day to figure it out.
Sunday, March 6, 2011
Sermon - March 6, 2011
Transfiguration Sunday Year A
Matthew 17:1-9
Transfigured Lives
It is sometimes said that you shouldn’t ask questions for which you don’t know the answer. So what I am about to do might be a bit chancy. But if I am right, your answers will prove that what I am thinking is true.
Turn to the person next to you and share a one or two sentence summary of last Sunday’s sermon. If you weren’t here last Sunday, refer to the most recent Sunday you were. Only move back in time as many weeks as you need to arrive at a Sunday when you were in worship. It doesn’t count if you share the content of a sermon which impressed you or deeply moved you. Turn to someone next to you and offer the summary.
How did it go? Were you able to remember what the preacher said? Now, this is the test. Turn back to that same person and share one experience from that same Sunday. It might be a conversation at the coffee pot, or who you sat next to, or something you observed. It might even be the liturgy that was used. … Wasn’t this a bit easier? It was for me. Sorry, Danielle, it took me a while to remember the sermon. But I remembered immediately the liturgy that we sang, or my attempts to get the LCM Praise Band to smile while they were singing, or the Girl Scouts out on the front lawn selling cookies. We remember a lot more of what we experience than what we think or what we hear. Experience is the best teacher; until we experience something, we are unlikely to remember, much less act, on what we are intended to learn.
The disciples had been told that this preacher they are following is something out of the ordinary. They had been instructed as to his purpose and goal. They had seen his glory, manifested in so many ways. But until they go up on that mountain, and his presence is transfigured before them, they still didn’t quite get it.
Say what you want, teach what you may, a faith journey doesn't begin until one experiences. Something has to happen, something must be observed, before faith begins and we put the pieces together in a cohesive whole.
Today is the Sunday of the Transfiguration. This feast is one of my favorite because it plays such an important role in the unfolding of the Church year. There is much to be learned and appreciated about this day and the events we recall through our readings. I looked back through my old sermons and realized that this is exactly the approach I have taken for most of the last twenty-eight years. On this day, I preach a lot of heady stuff. On Transfiguration Sunday, I speak as much wisdom as possible. Countless hours have been devoted to analyzing and retelling the mysteries of the Transfiguration.
But I am never completely sure all this information makes it through, or that it makes a whole heck of a lot of difference. And I realize that there may be something wrong with over analyzing an experience. There is a lot of information and meaning contained in the story of Jesus' Transfiguration, but it is primarily an experience. It may not be as important to consider what Jesus and the disciples learned through all of this. Rather the significance of this story may lie in what they experienced and how it changed their lives.
Matthew, in writing the gospel, tries to tell us that this is the approach to be taken. The story of Jesus' transfiguration is in the 17th chapter, verses 1-9. Just before this story, we have two paragraphs in which Jesus tells the disciples that he will be traveling to Jerusalem. Once there, he is to experience the rejection of the priests and scribes, and be condemned to death. Those two paragraphs are introduced with these words: From that time Jesus began to show his disciples. He began to tell them what was going to happen. For the first time, he revealed these things to them. The story of the Transfiguration comes immediately upon the heels of Jesus beginning to try and teach the disciples who he really was and what he had to do.
What happens as a result of his efforts? They don't understand. Those two paragraphs also contain the exchange between Jesus and Peter in which Peter's refusal to accept what Jesus is saying ends with Jesus telling him, "Get behind me Satan!" Jesus tries to tell them, but no¬body understands. It just doesn't make any sense to them.
So what does the gospel writer do? He follows this worthless attempt at sharing information with an experience. They don't understand when Jesus tells them, but when they see his appearance transfigured they know that something about him is worthy of their devotion. The experience accomplished what no amount of teaching ever could - it started them on their journey of faith.
Interesting to note that as the four of them are making their way down the mountain, Jesus tells the three disciples to tell no one the vision, until he is raised from the dead. Matthew continues to drive home the point - until others have also shared in the experience they will not be able to understand the words. "Wait", Jesus tells them, "until a time when the words will serve to elucidate the experience." Then, and only then, will the words make sense.
Every now and then we need to drop all our doctrinal statements about Jesus and admit that we believe because something has convinced us that this stuff makes a difference in our lives. We must acknowledge that while we have many good reasons for believing, we believe because we have experienced something too profound to ignore.
This Wednesday we begin our Lenten pilgrimage. During those 40 days, we follow the path of Jesus' route to the cross. It is a time to set aside insight and knowledge and formulas. It is a time to experience. To encounter the love of a God who cares enough to take on our suffering. Identify a Lenten discipline which will make it possible for you to experience the love of God. You can think your way into action – action which is likely to result in experiences capable of re-shaping your faith journey.
Others may try to tell you what that means - but it won't do any good. You must experience it for yourself. Until you do, nothing about your life will change. But when that experience does come, nothing is ever the same again.
Will you “remember” this point? Will you be able, next Sunday, to repeat what has been preached? I doubt it. But if you take action this afternoon, you might be able to remember and more faithfully make use of the Lenten season. And then, maybe in there, there will be an experience too precious to ever forget.
AMEN.
Matthew 17:1-9
Transfigured Lives
It is sometimes said that you shouldn’t ask questions for which you don’t know the answer. So what I am about to do might be a bit chancy. But if I am right, your answers will prove that what I am thinking is true.
Turn to the person next to you and share a one or two sentence summary of last Sunday’s sermon. If you weren’t here last Sunday, refer to the most recent Sunday you were. Only move back in time as many weeks as you need to arrive at a Sunday when you were in worship. It doesn’t count if you share the content of a sermon which impressed you or deeply moved you. Turn to someone next to you and offer the summary.
How did it go? Were you able to remember what the preacher said? Now, this is the test. Turn back to that same person and share one experience from that same Sunday. It might be a conversation at the coffee pot, or who you sat next to, or something you observed. It might even be the liturgy that was used. … Wasn’t this a bit easier? It was for me. Sorry, Danielle, it took me a while to remember the sermon. But I remembered immediately the liturgy that we sang, or my attempts to get the LCM Praise Band to smile while they were singing, or the Girl Scouts out on the front lawn selling cookies. We remember a lot more of what we experience than what we think or what we hear. Experience is the best teacher; until we experience something, we are unlikely to remember, much less act, on what we are intended to learn.
The disciples had been told that this preacher they are following is something out of the ordinary. They had been instructed as to his purpose and goal. They had seen his glory, manifested in so many ways. But until they go up on that mountain, and his presence is transfigured before them, they still didn’t quite get it.
Say what you want, teach what you may, a faith journey doesn't begin until one experiences. Something has to happen, something must be observed, before faith begins and we put the pieces together in a cohesive whole.
Today is the Sunday of the Transfiguration. This feast is one of my favorite because it plays such an important role in the unfolding of the Church year. There is much to be learned and appreciated about this day and the events we recall through our readings. I looked back through my old sermons and realized that this is exactly the approach I have taken for most of the last twenty-eight years. On this day, I preach a lot of heady stuff. On Transfiguration Sunday, I speak as much wisdom as possible. Countless hours have been devoted to analyzing and retelling the mysteries of the Transfiguration.
But I am never completely sure all this information makes it through, or that it makes a whole heck of a lot of difference. And I realize that there may be something wrong with over analyzing an experience. There is a lot of information and meaning contained in the story of Jesus' Transfiguration, but it is primarily an experience. It may not be as important to consider what Jesus and the disciples learned through all of this. Rather the significance of this story may lie in what they experienced and how it changed their lives.
Matthew, in writing the gospel, tries to tell us that this is the approach to be taken. The story of Jesus' transfiguration is in the 17th chapter, verses 1-9. Just before this story, we have two paragraphs in which Jesus tells the disciples that he will be traveling to Jerusalem. Once there, he is to experience the rejection of the priests and scribes, and be condemned to death. Those two paragraphs are introduced with these words: From that time Jesus began to show his disciples. He began to tell them what was going to happen. For the first time, he revealed these things to them. The story of the Transfiguration comes immediately upon the heels of Jesus beginning to try and teach the disciples who he really was and what he had to do.
What happens as a result of his efforts? They don't understand. Those two paragraphs also contain the exchange between Jesus and Peter in which Peter's refusal to accept what Jesus is saying ends with Jesus telling him, "Get behind me Satan!" Jesus tries to tell them, but no¬body understands. It just doesn't make any sense to them.
So what does the gospel writer do? He follows this worthless attempt at sharing information with an experience. They don't understand when Jesus tells them, but when they see his appearance transfigured they know that something about him is worthy of their devotion. The experience accomplished what no amount of teaching ever could - it started them on their journey of faith.
Interesting to note that as the four of them are making their way down the mountain, Jesus tells the three disciples to tell no one the vision, until he is raised from the dead. Matthew continues to drive home the point - until others have also shared in the experience they will not be able to understand the words. "Wait", Jesus tells them, "until a time when the words will serve to elucidate the experience." Then, and only then, will the words make sense.
Every now and then we need to drop all our doctrinal statements about Jesus and admit that we believe because something has convinced us that this stuff makes a difference in our lives. We must acknowledge that while we have many good reasons for believing, we believe because we have experienced something too profound to ignore.
This Wednesday we begin our Lenten pilgrimage. During those 40 days, we follow the path of Jesus' route to the cross. It is a time to set aside insight and knowledge and formulas. It is a time to experience. To encounter the love of a God who cares enough to take on our suffering. Identify a Lenten discipline which will make it possible for you to experience the love of God. You can think your way into action – action which is likely to result in experiences capable of re-shaping your faith journey.
Others may try to tell you what that means - but it won't do any good. You must experience it for yourself. Until you do, nothing about your life will change. But when that experience does come, nothing is ever the same again.
Will you “remember” this point? Will you be able, next Sunday, to repeat what has been preached? I doubt it. But if you take action this afternoon, you might be able to remember and more faithfully make use of the Lenten season. And then, maybe in there, there will be an experience too precious to ever forget.
AMEN.
Thursday, March 3, 2011
Devotion - Thursday, March 3
I continue to read from the 12th Chapter of II Corinthians. Paul continues to talk about "boasting."
He insists that he isn't trying to boast, but he wants to make sure that if there were to be any boasting, he would outshine the others. Weird, I know. But he is driving at a concluding point - if we are to boast, let us boast in but one thing, our dedication to Christ.
It is in the chapter that we get Paul's reference to his condition. Some have theorized that he suffered from epilepsy. Others that he had any one of a number of differing seizure disorders. What he says about it here, is that he was given a thorn in the flesh, to remind him of his dependence upon God. "Three times" he prays that it might be removed from him, but it is not.
He ends with one of the most paradoxical statements in all of history - ""For when I am weak, then I am strong."
Paul understands that any strength, found solely in ourselves, is fleeting. We cannot maintain it; we cannot prevent it from eroding. And, we are likely to later discover someone who is stronger. Flouting our strength encourages persons to challenge us and attempt to prove they are stronger. This interaction necessitates someone winning and someone loosing.
True strength, Paul's paradoxical statement informs us, is found in God. True strength is the openness to allowing God's strength to be our own.
If we were to boast, let us boast only in our weakness, in our openness to allowing God to direct our days and guide our paths.
He insists that he isn't trying to boast, but he wants to make sure that if there were to be any boasting, he would outshine the others. Weird, I know. But he is driving at a concluding point - if we are to boast, let us boast in but one thing, our dedication to Christ.
It is in the chapter that we get Paul's reference to his condition. Some have theorized that he suffered from epilepsy. Others that he had any one of a number of differing seizure disorders. What he says about it here, is that he was given a thorn in the flesh, to remind him of his dependence upon God. "Three times" he prays that it might be removed from him, but it is not.
He ends with one of the most paradoxical statements in all of history - ""For when I am weak, then I am strong."
Paul understands that any strength, found solely in ourselves, is fleeting. We cannot maintain it; we cannot prevent it from eroding. And, we are likely to later discover someone who is stronger. Flouting our strength encourages persons to challenge us and attempt to prove they are stronger. This interaction necessitates someone winning and someone loosing.
True strength, Paul's paradoxical statement informs us, is found in God. True strength is the openness to allowing God's strength to be our own.
If we were to boast, let us boast only in our weakness, in our openness to allowing God to direct our days and guide our paths.
Wednesday, March 2, 2011
Devotion - Wednesday, March 2
II Corinthians 11 includes a long list of Paul's suffering as a result of proclaiming the Gospel. He speaks of being beaten, of being in prison, of needed to flee for his his life. He is not trying to boast, he is however using all this as an example that his dedication to Christ supersedes that of any of his readers.
There comes a time, later in history, when martyrdom was the ultimate symbol of discipleship. I don't think that is where Paul is pointing, and I hope we never return to such a time. But we have moved so far away from the notion of suffering as a result of our faithfulness that it worries me.
In most instances, being a Christian (in Clemson, SC) makes you more acceptable - you fit in nicely. In most instances, Christian discipleship is seen as an encouragement to maintain the status quo. Should this be the case?
I have prepared the Wednesday News sheets. One of the concerns we are having are sufficient folks to help out with the once a month distribution of food to the homeless in Greenville. Isn't it clear, from scripture, how we are to regard the poor? But it makes us more acceptable (in our community) to spend our Friday nights at athletic events, or hanging out downtown, than to make sandwiches for a bunch of dirty folks.
Following Jesus puts us out of step with the world around us. Jesus calls us to a new life and to a new set of priorities. It is impossible for us to follow Jesus and not be pulled off the popular course of our peers. Maybe this won't result in beatings or imprisonment, but it will certainly result in odd looks, questionable comments, and the occasional jeer. If a few of these don't make their way into our day, perhaps we need to re-read II Corinthians 11 and ask ourselves whether Paul is full of himself or if he is telling us something about conforming the word of Christ to the world when what we ought to be doing is insisting that the world conform.
There comes a time, later in history, when martyrdom was the ultimate symbol of discipleship. I don't think that is where Paul is pointing, and I hope we never return to such a time. But we have moved so far away from the notion of suffering as a result of our faithfulness that it worries me.
In most instances, being a Christian (in Clemson, SC) makes you more acceptable - you fit in nicely. In most instances, Christian discipleship is seen as an encouragement to maintain the status quo. Should this be the case?
I have prepared the Wednesday News sheets. One of the concerns we are having are sufficient folks to help out with the once a month distribution of food to the homeless in Greenville. Isn't it clear, from scripture, how we are to regard the poor? But it makes us more acceptable (in our community) to spend our Friday nights at athletic events, or hanging out downtown, than to make sandwiches for a bunch of dirty folks.
Following Jesus puts us out of step with the world around us. Jesus calls us to a new life and to a new set of priorities. It is impossible for us to follow Jesus and not be pulled off the popular course of our peers. Maybe this won't result in beatings or imprisonment, but it will certainly result in odd looks, questionable comments, and the occasional jeer. If a few of these don't make their way into our day, perhaps we need to re-read II Corinthians 11 and ask ourselves whether Paul is full of himself or if he is telling us something about conforming the word of Christ to the world when what we ought to be doing is insisting that the world conform.
Tuesday, March 1, 2011
Devotion - Tuesday, March 1
Our presentation last night was not very well attended, but the dozen or so who did make it seemed to benefit from the conversation. The intent was to allow folks the opportunity to talk about the thing which is sometimes most difficult to acknowledge; to make it clear that there is no reason to avoid speaking of these things.
It may have been the weather - it was a terrible evening. It may have been the timing - we are getting to those weeks where there are many exams. Or perhaps it was the title - one student asked me to explain it. The topic was "doubt." The title was "Doubt is not a four letter word."
Four letter words are those words which some believe should never make it to our lips. I play racquetball with an unlikely assortment of individuals. Some are heavily involved in their churches, others are not. When a shot goes wrong, the latter are inclined to utter a four letter word. The previous (all of whom know I am a pastor) look to me as if to say, "Aren't you going to tell them how wrong that is?" In much the same way, an expression of doubt is looked down upon by some - perhaps by too many.
The problem is that we have made doubt the opposite of faithful. In reality, the opposite of faithful is fearful. We are no lacking in faith when we doubt; faith has begun to elude us when act out of fear.
To doubt is to wonder; to doubt is to question; to doubt is to probe the edges and discover anew the God that awaits us there. One of the students in my small group said that doubt was always a part of the lives of those who are not God; that only God knows all things.
Far from encouraging folks to forsake their confidence in God, last night's offering was an attempt to assure folks that even when questions arise (in their heads, in their hearts, or on their lips) this is not to mean that they should stay away from God's house and God's people. Doubt is not the flu - we do not pass it from one person to another. In giving voice to our doubt we explore the intricate details of a life lived in search of the One who is all knowing. Until we are fully united with Him, we will forever wander.
It may have been the weather - it was a terrible evening. It may have been the timing - we are getting to those weeks where there are many exams. Or perhaps it was the title - one student asked me to explain it. The topic was "doubt." The title was "Doubt is not a four letter word."
Four letter words are those words which some believe should never make it to our lips. I play racquetball with an unlikely assortment of individuals. Some are heavily involved in their churches, others are not. When a shot goes wrong, the latter are inclined to utter a four letter word. The previous (all of whom know I am a pastor) look to me as if to say, "Aren't you going to tell them how wrong that is?" In much the same way, an expression of doubt is looked down upon by some - perhaps by too many.
The problem is that we have made doubt the opposite of faithful. In reality, the opposite of faithful is fearful. We are no lacking in faith when we doubt; faith has begun to elude us when act out of fear.
To doubt is to wonder; to doubt is to question; to doubt is to probe the edges and discover anew the God that awaits us there. One of the students in my small group said that doubt was always a part of the lives of those who are not God; that only God knows all things.
Far from encouraging folks to forsake their confidence in God, last night's offering was an attempt to assure folks that even when questions arise (in their heads, in their hearts, or on their lips) this is not to mean that they should stay away from God's house and God's people. Doubt is not the flu - we do not pass it from one person to another. In giving voice to our doubt we explore the intricate details of a life lived in search of the One who is all knowing. Until we are fully united with Him, we will forever wander.
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